


Bedside Contemplations

by baker_and_fangirl



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Sort Of, The start of something, emotions are complicated and hard, love is complicated and hard to understand sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:21:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29427333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baker_and_fangirl/pseuds/baker_and_fangirl
Summary: Varric sits at Garrett's bedside and thinks about how they got to this point. Garrett has something he needs to say.
Relationships: Hawke/Varric Tethras, Male Hawke & Varric Tethras, Male Hawke/Varric Tethras
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13
Collections: Hightown Funk 2020





	Bedside Contemplations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aameyalli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aameyalli/gifts).



> Hello aameyalli! Its been a crazy year, but I enjoyed writing this piece a lot. I hope this story is one you enjoy (and if you don't like it, just let me know and I'll try and write about one)!

Of all the things Varric had ever considered himself, a bad friend wasn’t one of them but he may have to face that fact now as he sat at Garrett’s bedside. The healer had let Varric stay once Garrett was deemed stable enough and now there was only the crackling fireplace and the sound of Garrett’s labored breathing to keep him company tonight.

He had been a good friend to all of them, in his own way. He constantly paid Isabel’s tab, paid guards, gangs and templars alike to leave Fenris, Merril, and Anders alone, made sure no one gave Aveline crap from any side, and did his best to support Garrett.

But his best just wasn’t good enough. 

The chair that the healer had brought him was stiff and uncomfortable and not designed for someone his height but he wasn’t going to leave. The mage had said it was a miracle that Garrett had survived from the amount of blood loss, but that he would make it. She made a half joke about making him wear some kind of armor next time.

Varric was an awful friend, because he only just noticed that his best friend of more than ten years, had never worn armor. Sure, he had worn some when they had been in the Deep Roads, and it went to just a thin leather one around his ribs (he had told Varric it needed to be light for flexibility) after Junior joined the templars, to absolutely none after Leandra had died.

When Garrett had stumbled out of the fade with the Inquisitor, Varric had been grateful. He had asked the dwarf to keep an eye on him, to bring him back safely, and the Inquisitor had come through for him. Garrett hadn’t been too pleased and later Varric overheard him ask in distressed tones why Stroud had been left, why not him instead? Why was Cadash refusing to allow him to fix his mistakes?

The dwarf had just looked at Garrett with those eyes that could read anyone as well as a book, and said that he refused to help him kill himself in the line of duty. That Garrett had people who cared about him very deeply and that he could do more good in the world of the living than the world of the fade. And that he didn’t always need to be the one to sacrifice himself for others. Cadash had then left with his drink to go find a certain Tevinter mage, leaving Garrett stuck in place, looking like he had just had the wind knocked out of him.

Varric waited for a moment, trying to get his own barings. He was grateful to the Inquisitor for listening to him. Cadash had been willing to be pulled aside before he had left for the Fortress, because while Varric may be a bad friend for not noticing that Garrett was being reckless on purpose and not just because he was an impulsive, even at the time, he understood that Garrett was, at his heart, a hero who, like an idiot, would sacrifice himself for the greater good if it was necessary. But it shouldn’t have to always be Garrett to make the sacrifice.

In letters they exchanged while scattered (which were not enough, never close to being enough because Varric missed him so  **so** much it hurt, but were the closest thing he could get (he could imagine Garrett writing them, in a camp with Barkspawn curled around him, hiding out in an inn his smile charming everyone with its sincerity, in an abandoned house or a barn if there was no other shelter)) Varric had outlined a retirement plan. Sell books of their heroic and heavily edited adventures, retired to a nice sunny coast away from the muck and rain, where they could just be two old men sharing a bottle of wine and not having to save the world every other Tuesday. But Garrett felt responsibility towards other people, and particularly, cleaning up the mess Anders left behind (he felt like he should have known sooner, picked up on it, maybe then he could have stopped Anders from destroying the Chantry (Garrett had shared one night as they slept on the coast, Junior and Isabela snoring in the tents, that the Chantry was one of the few places Garrett could consistently get food for their family until he was old enough to have a job, and as a family, they had spent many nights sleeping in one when it was too cold to travel, and the one in Kirkwall had helped kept his mother and brother fed, along with almost all of Lowtown and all of Darktown so despite that one bitch Petrice he had no problem with them, although the same could not be said for Anders) Varric countered that if Anders had wanted to stop the templars, he would have just used that tunnel they all knew about since they had snuck into the Circle before and just blown up their buildings but they quickly agreed to not talk about it and moved on to better topics that made them both feel less alone) and so that house by the ocean would simply have to wait.

They still weren’t by the ocean.

They had come back to Kirkwall, working tireless and thankless jobs, getting together once a week with Aveline and Donnic to drink and chat, and writing letters to their wayward friends. Isabela and Fenris said they would be close by and dock in about two weeks and tell them all about their adventures. Merrill couldn’t visit but often sent recipes for potions and healings, new discoveries she was making, as well as dried flowers in her letters that always seemed to be smudged with dirt.

Anders didn’t write at all (and Varric hated him a little more for that as well).

Garrett had been doing better at not throwing himself into danger after his conversation with the Inquisitor. He actually started to think about things in the long run, but this last one, with the kids from the Circle who had never lived outside of it and had been snatched up by slavers.

And so, he was here. Sitting in an uncomfortable chair and waiting for this stupid, heroic, stubborn ass of a man to wake back up.

Varric decided to focus on his irritation over the self sacrificing moron he would follow to the end of the world so he could ignore the tightness in his chest from remembering how the demon had caught Garrett in the stomach (speared him through with blood pouring out of him as the baby mages screamed and cried, Varric not at his side as he tried and corral them into the wagon they had brought) and how Varric had been sure, in that moment at least, that the only person he could say he completely trusted in his entire of life had just died (a servant had brought him something to eat, and offered to heat up a bath but Varric could only wave them away. Food and drink tasted of ash, and the thought of leaving Garrett’s side was simply too much).

Before the thought could take root Garrett stirred, one eye opening since the other was swollen shut and coughing. “Varric?” he managed to croak out, his voice creaky. “Where are we?”

“The healers.” He said, his tone was shorter than it usually was. “You got stabbed by a demon and you almost died.” His voice softened, just a bit “They gave you some heavy painkillers so don’t try and move.”

“That explains why my mouth is tingling and I feel like shit. Healing magic always feels like licking lightning.” Garrett laughed a little as he slowly pushed his words out. He looked around. “Are you okay? How about the kids? How did I get here?”

“Seeing as how I’m standing on my own, I’d say better than you. The kids are fine, Aveline is with them. She is trying to find some place for them to stay but they’ll probably end up staying with her or in Fenris’ old place. The dragon came back and dropped us off.” Varric said, his tone dry as he got water from the side table. The last part was sarcastic, but he didn’t need to know that the wagon now had a sizable blood stain in the bed from his body.

Garrett laughed, and then coughed. “She always did have impeccable timing, didn’t she?” He said in a much quieter voice “She never did tell me how to change into one.”

“Turn into what?”

“A dragon of course.” Garrett said as if it was obvious, and to him it probably was. Varric had stopped questioning the weird obsession with dragons a long time ago. “I am glad you're okay. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Well, personally,” Varric said as he handed the water over, “I would miss you as a human, even with all the legs.” He gestured for him to drink.

Garrett drank but was looking at Varric in awe and another emotion that would be awkward to address in public. He laid back down, opened his mouth, and then closed it, seeming to think something over. His eyes were a little unfocused but his voice was clear (and maybe a bit wobbly from the painkillers). “I love you Varric.”

Varric froze.

“I think I’ve loved you for a while. I don’t know if I have ever felt more comfortable, or trusted anyone as much as I have with you. I don’t want to go another day without you.” Garrett reached out and grabbed Varric’s hand. “Can we move out to the ocean now? No more big adventures. Picture it, just us, any pets we want, one bedroom with a view.” There was a pause. “And okay, I guess an extra room so Isabela and Fenris could crash there. Or you could make it into an office.”

Varric wasn’t sure how to feel as Garrett described their dream house. He was still trying to process what the hell had just happened. Romance had never seemed like it was in the cards for him, and he had been fine with that. He had always been happy with his life, happy to be by Garrett’s side. He had never felt that level of trust with someone, had never really felt comfortable with anyone. He wasn’t even sure if he had ever clicked so well with Bianca. And love.

Varric thought about love for a moment. He had never seen many examples of it, not when it was real. Passion, he could understand, fast and fleeting. But sustained love was an odd creature. He thought about Aveline and Donnic, who were probably the only couple he knew that had actually married for love. But he could recognize what they had in what he and Garrett had.

“Sounds like a good idea.” Varric’s voice cut through Garrett’s rambling. “Go to sleep Garrett, we can talk about it more tomorrow when you are more aware.”

Garrett nodded. “Alright. Tomorrow.” he said, nodding as Varric pushed him back into the bed. “I love you Varric.”

“I love you too. Now go to sleep.” Tomorrow would be a challenge but they had faced worse. This should be easy to figure out.

Right?


End file.
